Kintsugi
by Anloquen
Summary: Agron and Nasir struggle to move on after their departure from Rome and Spartacus' death, but demons of the past won't let them find peace of mind. Rated for language.


In the damp, fir-scented shade of Rhein valley Agron's skin grew pale, resilient and as smooth as the silk velvet cloaks of Roman nababs Nasir sometimes undressed for his dominus. Thanks to its elasticity the man did not suffer much from a scratch given by a slavic sword. The wound on Agron's shoulder Nasir tended to was nothing more than a bruise marked with a few grazes.

Little man had insisted on cleaning it as a pretext to caress his man softly and attempt to restore intimacy he had missed badly in past weeks. Indeed, Agron's tense arms and neck began to relax under his lover's gentle touch, but his gaze was empty and still, fixed on the trembling glow of last piceous logs fading in the fireplace. Nasir pressed a long, loving kiss on the bruise, creasing his brows at the memory of how it Agron was given it.

"Levelin*, we no longer fight for our lives" he began softly, still pressing his cheek against German's cool, soft skin. "Would you just once refrain from rushing to the very middle of every fucking shambles you see."

Agron sighed, his neck got tense again. They had had this conversation dozens of times before. Everytime Nasir asked the German to heed his own health, he lacked words to explain why he could not satisfy this request.

"It is just silver, copper and amber we now fight for. Nothing worth being showered with blood. All the more, we now have more coin that we need to live sated and clothed, at least as long as you wish to fight bare-chested. If we had to buy you a new shirt after every battle we would not be able to make a living of it. "He tried to say it lightly and facetiously, but heavy groan he felt in Agron's chest dimmed his smile.

"You seem to forget who I am. A warrior, not a corruptible mercenary. I would rather die as such than see my own fall."

Nasir curled up, defeated and humiliated. It was not the first time that he could not resist wondering whether it was really a blessing that gods had returned Agron to his arms after Crixos' defeat. He feared that the brave, cheerful and daring man he had known died on a cross; that he was not only lost but gone forever.

Once again the Syrian warrior tried to restore good mood, calling a fake smile upon his face and trying to make his voice sound playful.

"You learnt to embrace death as a gladiator. I am now growing concerned about your penchant for such a lover."

"Do you not find it curious that you are the one to speak of jealousy?"

This was the final blow for Nasir's good will. Underneath his compassion and love he felt a growing blister of bitter bile. He moved away from his husband and started to frantically rub the honey ointment of his palms with a linen cloth.

"You cannot reproach me with this," He forced himself to remain calm. "for I have never broken trust with you.

"Not in flesh." Agron snarled.

Little man tightened his jaws to stifle a curse.

"I never denied that he had been dear to me." He hissed. "Why does it torment you?

"Is it only flesh that you care for? Would you not mind anyone having my thoughts and heart as long as my body remained in your possession?"

"You want to have my thoughts?" Nasir jumped up to his feet and stared at Agron with disgust. "You want me to renounce my dear friend, to deny me the right to mourn his death? As a slave I was at least free to long for whoever I fancied and owed my dominus only mu body. What do you want to make me?!"

Agron stood up as well and pressed his finger against his man's chest.

"Nasir, do not fuck with me. Have I forced myself into your life? Did I hold a blade against your neck when we were taking our vows? If you prefer to be a slave, it will not take long to get to Rome."

"I swear to Cerberus's balls, one day you will see me lose my shit, man from the East of Rhein. Were it not for my patience, trained by years of listening to your insults, you would not set your eyes upon me again."

Nasir did not regret the cruelty of such a warning, a one spoken in cold, invidious voice. For a moment they pressed their chests against each other, staring in each other's eyes, steaming with anger, breathing heavily like hounds waiting to be unleashed. Agron was the first to lean his head in a gesture of surrender.

"Words ill spoken. Apologies."

German knelt before the fireplace and angrily threw a few new logs in. When he had vented his anger he sat down on a bear's skin stretched on the floor in front of the fireplace and leant against a heavy beech chest that held their most treasured possessions. Little man joined him after a while and found his lover's palm among rough, stiff fur of the beast they had slain together a lifetime before. The palm trembled, but remained where he had found it, ready to be stroked and caressed.

"How can I forget him, who has burnt his mark deeply in your soul?" Agron began sadly after long minutes of silence. "Everytime you speak, I hear his words that fell onto you like seeds onto soil. He lives in you and forgetting him would mean cutting you from my very flesh."

Nasir removed his hand and trembled.

" A festering ulcer, as I see myself now."

Little man rose his head in an unnatural, stiff, military gesture.

"You once left me, regarding yourself the one who cast a shadow upon my life." His voice wavered, he wailed with his throat clenched, struggling with pain to utter every single word. "Perhaps it is time I returned the favor."

For a split second Agron froze, then he uttered a short, angry groan and hid his face in his palms.

"Nasir... " He cried. "fuck you..."

Nasir gave up trying to tame tears of anger and guilt that filled his eyes. He desperately swung his arms around his man's chest, ready to fight his resistance, but Agron just clasped his hands around Syrian's forearms, pulling him closer. Little man could feel his man quake.

"I heard carefree words you shared with Castus, I saw the cheerful smile brought upon your face by his presence when mine could no longer do so." Agron strained to speak, his voice turned from desperate cry to almost noiseless whisper word by word. "I believed you would be happier with him, but I made my biggest mistake when I told you to stay with Spartacus so peremptorily. I should have let you decide... Now I will never know."

Sudden clarity struck Nasir like a heavy, ice-cold blade. He comprehended. He realised what Agron had been through and the guilt and compassion almost tore his heart. All the more, he knew Agron had reasons to be so uncertain.

"Levelin... " He pressed his forehead against his man's arm. "You are right. I know your heart would not beat a second longer than mine. But I... After you left me I never parted with a sharp blade to quickly comfort me, should I ever hear unfortunate news. But when Naevia returned and pronounced you dead I was despairing, heartbroken, mad with pain, yet still willing to live. Perhaps I just cannot love the way you love me."

The german warrior gently cupped his lover's face in his hand and delicately lifted Nasir's chin, so they could look each other in the eyes.

"Nasir... The shit we went through made us cling to each other so closely that we lacked the distance to see our true selves... our differences... and faults. Perhaps this needs to be changed."

"You said it with such ease..."

It was such a strange feeling for him. The dull, dark heaviness in his chest so rapidly replaced gruesome pain, cold emptiness replaced the beast gnawing upon a throat in a twinkling of an eye.

" I will not trouble your conscience with pleads for mercy. If you wish so, can leave at dusk."

"No, I do not fucking wish it." Agron moved away from his husband and grabbed his arms angrily. His firm hands caused Nasir pain, but he knew that Agron was struggling not to hurt him more. "I wish to ignite an inferno within your chest," He cried "to see reflexes of the raging fire in your eyes. I wish to seek what once kept our hearts ablaze, be it scented oil or blackest tar. Despite the heaviness dragging my heart to the very ass of hell I will never give up on you, but you have to give me a slightest fucking clue instead of whining like a cunt!"

Nasir bit his lip. The taste of blood sobered him up.

"We have already caused each other so much pain."

He felt that the painful grip on his arms loosened and gradually turned into gentle strokes.

"How much worse can it get? What can hurt more than loosing each other? Let us slit our chests open to let the other see the very heart. Then we decide."

Nasir laughed vacantly.

"You will see a slaughterhouse in my chest."

"And you, rotting corpses in mine. Is it a view that scares you, little man?"

The Syrian warrior got up and knelt in front of his man, took his palms in his hands and kissed them.

" Who are we, absent gold, silk or scented oils to offer to each other?" He spoke softly. "Beggars, making their poor little trades underneath a bridge, ball-deep in shit and garbage?"

"Perhaps," Agron smiled for a split second. "but the poorest trades are also the most fair ones."

Nasir laughed again, this time heartily.

"You really do not give up. Let it be then, let us fight again in one last battle," He watched Agron's face express relief. "though I would not bet a grain of barley that it is going to be any easier than trying to shove your cock up Jupiter's ass.

"Fucking Syrians..." The German shook his head and bared his teeth in a wide, sincere smile.

Little man run his fingers through Agron's hair and kissed his ear.

"I shall see to a bottle of that ass' piss your insane people pour down their throats and call bier." He said with a sigh.

"I hate you too!" Agron grabbed his neck and pressed a short, firm kiss on his lips.

* I found it irresistibly sweet that this Old German word can mean "little love" or "lion cub" depending on spelling. Could there be a cuter nickname for Agron?


End file.
